Stolen Moments
by I.J.Girl
Summary: RenePaige Several one-shots, probably from a bunch of different AUs that I come up with, bear with me folks. Just tender moments with Beck and Paige, adding up his guilt at the lies he builds up and her doubts about her allegiance, with Tron glaring down his nose at the seductive threat in his and Beck's lives. RatedT for slight suggestiveness...and Kissing.:P XD(covr pic not mine)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! ^^ Okay, so, let's me explain this. I was poking around the archive, and I came up with so _few _Beck/Paige fanfics I felt cheated. :/ And then the ones that I could find always had a bit of a, um, OOC-ness to them. NOT to be dissing those fanfics, I thoroughly enjoyed each one, but there's always something about an in-character story that is just...satisfying. Not to say, either, that I think I got them in character, but...I don't know. I just thought we needed more in this fandom, I guess? Please nobody get offended, it's just my thoughts rambling here, I'm exhausted and I just pumped out this 2,756 word thing in less than two hours without any planning before hand. XP My mind's not filtering things right. SO, anyway, this AU(this one, singular one-shot) is that instead of simply stepping away and respecting Paige's wish to break-up, Beck persisted(he knows how to persist without bugging her out of her mind :P), and she caved(but, come on, who wouldn't cave to this guy? XD) and they've been in a relationship for some time now. Like, three to four months, give or take. *shrugs* Maybe five. :P This is set around a week or two after The Stranger(where Able dies) and in between that episode and any of the others that happened. GOOD NIGHT, ENJOY, REVIEW. *konks out* Zzzzzzzzz...**

**Edit: Someone noted that it was actually 'No Bounds' instead of 'The Stranger'. XD I don't know, I was half unconscious when I posted this, and I've only watched the series three times, all of them within the time span of a couple of days, and my brain was melted from exhaustion. XD So thank you reviewer, for helping me out there! I can never remember the names of the episodes...**

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Beck's feet splashed against the puddles on the ground, formed by the rain cascading down around him, as he sprinted the last few feet to the elevator located at the back of Able's Garage, leading up to the dorms that the mechanics slept in, baton in hand. Stepping into the dry platform, he stood rigidly for a few moments before heaving a heavy sigh, letting his tired shoulders slump.

There were only two things he disliked about being the Renegade.

One was slowly losing his friends because of his lack of time to spend with them. As much as he enjoyed being with Zed and Mara, there simply wasn't time. And after Able's death...conversations were simply too tense, too much sidestepping around delicate topics for there to be a comfortable camaraderie between the three.

The second was being called a _murderer._

The elevator smoothly glided upwards, and he took the moment of peace and quiet to lean against the glass, facing the city under curfew with somber, tired eyes. After Able's death, everyone was looking to their neighbor for comfort and reassurances, and his absences would have been deeply felt; because of that, he moved training until after curfew, taking off right under the Occupation's collective noses to the Outlands. A soft, wry smile involuntarily found it's way onto his face as he remembered Tron's quiet grumbling; more than likely the older security program was missing his sleep cycles.

A yawn involuntarily forced it's way out of his mouth, and he noted that he was missing his regular sleep cycles as well. Truth be told, he was exhausted, but, being the young program he was, if he could get in one uninterrupted sleep cycle, he'd be fine and ready to go.

His thoughts, slightly erratic due to his coming off of an adrenaline high, instigated by the tension filled run back home from the Outlands, jumped to an entirely different topic.

Mara and Paige had no idea how they tore at his heart every time the words slipped out of their mouths.

_He's a _murderer, _Beck! How can you possibly still support him?_

Mara he could understand. She was angry, and she was hurting, and she wanted someone to blame, something to take the focus off of the pain she felt. He felt the same, and it was tempting to become bitter and angry towards Cyrus, but he restrained from it, seeing what it was doing to Mara's normally bright and cheery optimism.

That said, he _totally_ blamed both himself and Cyrus for the whole fiasco. And possibly Tron. His tired mind wandered across that line of thought, wondering how the program had been able to become as good as and possibly even exceed Tron's skills...He wondered if he'd ever be able to be as good as Tron and then shut down that line of thought, yawning and shaking himself from his mental ramblings.

Paige, however...From what little he was able to get out of her, she said she had encountered the 'Renegade' briefly that millicycle and immediately noticed the difference(What the difference was, she never said), and as hard as he tried to push that along with every other bit of evidence that the Renegade was _not _a murderer, she insisted that he was.

Which hurt almost more than losing Able and Bohdi.

The elevator stopped, and he turned away from the sleeping city, stepping out into the white hallway, sighing. Tron had tried, and tried really hard, to explain to him that if Paige could not have the Renegade, if she couldn't learn to view him as something good, or at the very least, form a neutral opinion over him, then she could also not have Beck. As much as Beck would try to separate _Tron _from himself, he was at his core, _Tron. _He drilled this into his head as he carefully tweaked Beck's disk, getting it ready for the eventual copying over of the role of System Monitor into Beck's system, and again as they went at the simulator together and again as he came and again as he left. It was exhausting just to hear his mentor mention his relationship with the commander and just how vulnerable it left him- how vulnerable it left _all _of them_._

"I just...Beck, you're..." Tron had heaved a heavy sigh as Beck finally snapped and told him to mind his own business, before rapidly apologizing and then reasserting that he had heard _enough_, "This girl has the potential to hurt you more than you could ever possibly imagine. Just...be careful."

Well. He was beginning to imagine. No matter that the fire in her eyes when she smirked at him sent his energy roaring through his circuits or that she understood what it felt like to be responsible for the safety and freedom of their fellow programs or that she always seemed to know just how to hit him over the head and make him see a problem in a completely different way or how her competitive and rebellious streak was reserved from all world except for him or that that one look that she kept only for him made him feel more powerful and exuberant than any power upgrade ever could; those things would only make it so much worse if she ever found out.

He already knew from experience how much it hurt to disagree with her, and he _briefly_ wondered why he had pushed for their relationship to happen even after she tried to break up with him.

_Briefly_. Memories of slowly prodding laughter and smiles out of the stoic soldier and slowly opening up about Bodhi's death and giving her abridged stories about Lux and Culter and her gentle understanding and advice about grief and both of them working through different complicated issues together and setting up a hard-light hologram of Pavel for her to deface and butcher with insulting code written all over the irritating(creepy) program's face to help her mood and the gentle kisses shared between shifts and missions on both sides, the more passionate ones snatched in elevators or in alleys and street corners, her circuits turned white to blend in with civilians and her heels gone, making her a good four inches shorter than him(he noticed that these kisses happened often after Paige had a one-on-one fight with the Renegade and filed that away for pondering upon later) sprung up to remind him why.

A genuine smile graced his face for a moment as he strode past the dorm that Zed and Mara shared, hearing quiet murmurs from the room, finally reaching the dorm he and Bohdi used to share. Placing his hand on the pad, the dorm recognized his ID and the door hummed open quietly, not interrupting the soft conversation in the neighboring room. Stepping inside, he sighed in relief, more than ready to collapse into his bed and blissfully lose consciousness for a while. The light flickered on, revealing a moderately sized space, with a small counter space to his left, filled with little trinkets and half finished projects, most of them Bodhi's, and beyond that, a small bathroom that was shared with Mara and Zed's dorm. His bed was the one pulled to the left hand corner of the room, turned so that the side was flat against the window, to as to get as far away from the bathroom door as possible, while Bodhi's bed was the one directly in front of the door, feet pointed straight at whatever intruder decided this dorm was worth robbing...Or at least that's where Bodhi's bed was _supposed _to be. At the sight of the empty spot, Beck tensed, coiling into a defensive position without second thought, ready to met whatever threat could possibly be in his small dorm, eyes taking in the room again, alert and wiped clean of his former weariness. He blinked when he found that Bodhi's bed had actually migrated over to his bed, pushed together side by side, made up as if they were one large bed instead of the two one-program beds that they were. Resting his eyes on the lump on the bed, he relaxed at the familiar green and white circuitry, though still slightly puzzled.

Striding over, he found that Paige had made herself more than at home, sprawled out underneath the double covers taken from both beds, eyes gently shut and mouth slightly open, her hair messy and slowly unraveling from her tight bun. As a confused grin found it's way onto his face, he took in her beauty, reveling in the unprecedented view of a completely relaxed Paige.

"Well..." he looked at the space she was occupying on the bed and wondered how on the Grid he was going to fit in the little space she had left him with her long legs sprawling across half of Bodhi's bed and her upper half curled up on his, "I guess this means I'm not getting my sleep cycle this millicycle..."

Not that he minded too much. The smile that had sprouted on his face once he knew who she was hadn't faltered for a moment, and he knelt down next to the bed, resting his arms on the bed and propping up his square chin on his hands, watching her slow, even breaths. After a moment, she stirred, and he tensed, before remembering that this was _his _dorm, technically, so she couldn't exactly fault him for being curious as to why she was sleeping here. It wasn't like either of them had decided to take the next step, bonding in that manner and moving in together.

A few strands of her hair, dark and soft, slid into her mouth and he bit back a chuckle, reaching out gently to brush back the strands, his finger softly grazing her skin-

No sooner than his hand made contact, he found himself slamming on to the floor, his arm twisted backwards and his wrist twisted into an extremely painful and _complicated _hold (made worse by the still healing scars Cyrus left behind), having to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out, choking on a grunt as Paige's knee made contact with his back.

"Ow, _ow,_" he tried to keep his voice down, knowing that most of his coworkers would _not appreciate_ being awakened at this time of the sleep cycle. Paige yawned, and sleepily rubbed the last bits of grogginess from her eyes, relaxed since her attacker was practically frozen in place.

"Paige?!"

Beck's quiet, yet frantic voice jolted her to full awareness, and she gasped as she looked down at her victim, jumping off and letting go quickly.

"Beck!" her voice was a little loud and he quickly clapped his uninjured hand over her mouth with an apologetic look, letting go after she leveled him with a glare.

They sat on the floor in silence for a few moments, Beck trying to ignore the dull, stabbing pain in his wrists and Paige still waking up.

"I'm so-"

"I shouldn't-"

Speaking up at the same time, Paige snorted and Beck grinned standing up, as she scooted back into bed, crossing her arms over her chest with a dead serious face.

"You were out after curfew."

Beck tensed, and batted the unasked question away, "You _occupied _my bed."

Her lips tensed, and he knew she was fighting an amused smile.

"Don't change the subject. Technically, I'm under oath to arrest you," the amusement fled her expression quickly and he sighed, gently massaging his wrist as he shifted his weight to his right foot.

"Technically, since you're not wearing Occupation colors, you're currently a civilian."

"Touche," Paige sat up, eying his wrist, "Are you okay? Let me see."

He almost automatically reached over, used to her fussing over his wounds, but held back, remembering the highly visible scars seared through his coding, shaking his head, "It's okay, I'm fine."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "You're lying to me. Again. Sit here, now."

Fighting a grin, he obeyed, settling himself on the enlarged bed and was pleasantly surprised when she threw one of her legs over his lap, the other one sliding behind his back as she scooted closely to him. This was a big improvement. It had taken many, many weeks to get her to open up a little about allowing him to even wrap his arm around her shoulders, and much longer while he waited until she was ready to allow him all those little touches he wanted to give her, a hand on her shoulder or elbow or a gentle brush against her skin, a brief hug, things he was used to from his friendship with Mara and Zed and Bodhi, and even after she relaxed and allowed slightly more romantic touches, the only contact she initiated was when she saw he was hurt(or, in some cases, when Mara or Zed had told her he had gotten nicked or something equally trivial). For her to pull herself against his body was something rare and he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it immensely.

She propped her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his chest, and he automatically wrapped an arm around her waist to help keep her upright.

"I don't like it when you lie to me, mechanic," oh, well, he certainly was in trouble, if she was calling him _mechanic, _"Lies are one of the things I hate the most."

Hmm, interesting. He was definitely screwed five ways to the Void if-...when she found out.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you feel bad," he ignored the sickened feeling in his stomach as he shoveled out another lie, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers.

"So I did hurt you."

"It doesn't hurt now," which was the truth. Paige sighed, one of the circuits on her leg accidentally coming flush against a circuit on his stomach, and a flash of warmth and sparking electricity flooded his senses.

"Where have you been, Beck? If it's something illeg-"

He slammed his lips against hers sloppily, and she made as if to bite him in retaliation, but simply grunted and sucked in his bottom lip to lavish it with her tongue. He felt guilty for using her attraction for him against her, but he could excuse it. Circuit on circuit contact in the right context was nearly blinding in the intensity of the energy, and he knew she couldn't have _not _felt what she had just done to him.

Once a tiny moan worked it's way out of her throat, he pulled away, panting, pupils dilated. She looked slightly dazed and a touch disappointed.

"So," she only _nearly _slurred, "What were we talking about?"

Beck's guilt only grew and he knew Tron was wrong in worrying about him being the one getting hurt. Beck was going to tear Paige to shreds when she found out. A lump formed in his throat and he shook his head, unable to articulate at the moment.

"Hmm," she rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, before looking up, scrutinizing his face, "You look awful."

"Wow. Thanks."

She ignored his sarcasm, taking his face in her hands gently, and he marveled at how the same hands that so brutally attacked and mercilessly bruised and battered him could also be the same hands that gently tended his wounds and tenderly stroked his skin.

Her thumbs softly circled underneath his eyes, smoothing out the dark hollows there, her index fingers running across his eyebrows(one thing about himself that he had never paid attention to before, but she seemed to find fascinating) and her lips pursed as she ran diagnostics.

"How much sleep have you been getting?"

He shrugged, and she glared at him, "I don't know. I haven't really paid attention."

She smacked his head from behind gently, "Idiot. Why didn't you tell me you were tired? I could have waited til morning."

"Right...What _are_ you doing here, Paige?"

Paige's expression hardly changed, but he could tell she felt sheepish about whatever it was, "Well, it's been over a week since I've seen you, so...I came here, thinking I could snatch you away on a random date to anywhere, but you weren't here and curfew came-"

"You were going to take me out after curfew?" he fought a proud grin, the thought of a rule-breaking Paige was extremely attractive.

She bit the inside of her cheek, "Pretty dumb, huh? Anyway, there were all these sentries running around, and..."

She paused, shrugging, "I just thought it would make more sense for me to wait here so that once you got back from whatever-"

"Delivery that ran late. Guy wasn't satisfied, we argued until curfew, bada-bing, bada-boom, here we are," the lie slipped out before he could even think it through, and he immediately committed the story to memory, to make sure he didn't tell her the same one twice and to make sure he didn't get his stories mixed up when explaining it to someone else. The guilt grew more painful.

"-we could at least talk before I switched back to Clu's colors and headed home. But you took so long, your friend, Mara, told me to make myself at home up here."

"Is my bed too small for your tastes?" he gestured to the joined beds. Paige grinned mischievously.

"No," she locked eyes with him, pressing the circuit on her leg against his circuits again, albeit intentionally this time. A flush of blue covered his face as his eyes widened.

"Ah," he chuckled awkwardly, "I see."

Her smile fell, and she pulled away, "I mean, not tonight, obviously, you need to sleep...I can go home now, and we can just forget-"

"Paige," he whispered, grasping her hand and pulling her towards him again, kissing her much more efficiently this time, pushing her down onto the bed as she willingly succumbed to him. Climbing over her, straddling her hips before pulling away from her mouth and peppering her face with gentle kisses, he continued, "It's okay, I like the idea. But you're right. Not tonight, and maybe...maybe we should discuss it first."

She grinned, a wicked gleam in her eye, "I'm more of a _do-it-now-think-it-later _kind of program."

"And that is why I love you," he settled into the bed next to her, and she hitched a leg over his hips, "Stay tonight. I'm too tired for anything, but I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either."

"Good."

"Good."

He grinned as his eyes slid shut of their own accord, his sleep cycle taking over before he could tease her about always having to have the last word. The last thing he was conscious of was of her hand gently lacing through his hair, and a loving kiss placed on his nose.

All other worries aside...He could definitely get used to this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiya! I like one-shots. They're simple, easy, don't involve a ton of planning and don't need to be updated regularly. In theory, I should find that easy. BUT NO. 8/ My head wants to write all these complicated things that I have to dedicate myself to. WHY?! *sighs and takes deep breath* That said...**

**I should explain this AU.**

**Except that it sort of explains itself...? I'll explain it anyway. :P I saw those pictures that everybody has seen of Paige in the TRON suit, and I thought they were awesome...and laughed like crazy because, no one would ever believe _she _was _Tron. _Which was sad, because it would have made a fun AU to write/read about. So I saw that and forgot about it.**

**Then I was poking around, trying to find if Tron The Original was on Netflix or Hulu or (maybepossiblycauseit'sold) on Youtube with no luck, and was all dejected and annoyed and came across the YORI LIVES website and poked around a little out of a disconnected interest. I drew Yori/Lora/Cindy Morgan in Yori's suit and loved the design of all those lines, and had that set next to my computer while sifting through all the gigabytes of junk on my computer and up popped the pics of Paige in Tron's suit I had saved. 6.6 *looks down at drawing* 9.9 *looks up at computer screen* IDEA! **

**This AU will probably be drawn out in two or maybe three parts...? I think, to explain, sort of the back story and eventually set up the Paige/Beck relationship(none of that good stuff here friends! Sorry!). Hopefully, this AU will be a little more forgiving on our favorite pairing than my previous one. XD (Though I kinda like that one, just because it's messy and involves heartbreak and lies and twisted twistery and love and stolen moments of fluff between it all. :P So, I've kept you loveg enough, I'll let you get to the Story because I'm exhausted! (again)(I should stop updating my stuff at two in the morning XP)**

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Gallium's gleaming white streets and milky smooth ceramic-metal buildings made for an almost perfect environment for the renegade to blend in, the rebellious white and blue suit camouflaging into the walls as if the program wasn't even there. A smirk found it's way onto the normally serious program's face, as the long legged protester quietly made their way up the tallest building in the formerly peaceful city, quietly leaping onto the upper balcony just as the guard left his post, turning away from her to seek the soldier that was _supposed_ to relieve him.

_Just in time_, the program mused proudly, opening the door with aforementioned relief guard's ID and slipping into the dark, under lit hallway, finding that her former camouflage turned into a brilliant white and blue neon blight in the orange and yellow corridor. Waving the thought away, she sped through the military base, formerly an archive tower, making her way through twists and turns she had memorized beforehand until she slowed down at a corner, placing her back against the white and orange wall, carefully peering into the next corridor, where two soldiers were supposed to be standing guard in front of a sealed off room. To her surprise, both guards were missing. She frowned, pausing as the worrisome thought of a set up rose up, trusting her quarantined mentor as she carefully sidled up to the door, peering into the room the same way she had peered around the corner, finding the door wide open and the rows and rows of data hexes and data cubes orderly and untouched.

The basic programing she had received as a low rank soldier twisted in her code, warning her, and she tried to ignore it, quietly drawing her disk and squaring her shoulders as she silently stepped into the room, suddenly grateful for the flat heeled design of her suit. Glancing around, she spotted the soldiers behind the shelves in the farthest corner of the room, knocked out and cuffed. Puzzled, she almost didn't hear the soft crackle of a distorted gasp just above her, and when it dawned on her and she spun, disk whirring into a lethal white blur, a heavy, solid body was already slamming down onto her, sending her back flat against the floor, the blow sending a white flash of pain across her vision before she recuperated enough to open her eyes.

"Don't move, don't make a sound, or I _will_ derezz you," above her, straddling her hips, was a male designated program, as bright and white and out of place as she was, disk whirring mere centimeters from her neck.

Her eyes flew wide open as she recognized the circular pattern on his chest, the four squares forming a distinctive T shape, the ghost of a memory tracing through her disk, too thin for her to grasp, and his name slipped out of her mouth in a shaky exhale before she could even think about it, "Tron."

His disk arm trembled and he faltered, the voice distortion making the soft, stuttering sound he made harsh and lifeless, and it woke her from her momentary trace as she wrenched her disk arm out from between their bodies pressed flush against each other, deactivated so as to not kill this new mystery so soon, and kicked him off, sending him flying against the wall with a grunt. Jumping to her feet, she reactivated her disk, deflecting a blow from his as he tried to defend himself, and slamming him to the floor, this time _her_ straddling _his_ hips and pressing her disk against his throat, stilling his movements as he seemed to glare at her through his dark mask. Tracing her hand on the side of his mask, she frowned, her own face concealed as well, realizing that this program had an entirely different helmet shape and, as her body was unintentionally pressing against his pretty hard to keep him from lurching away, the _feel _of this program was very different as well.

She wasn't exactly sure _why_ she knew how the legendary Tron _felt _but she'd blame that on the half-disk she had had to steal from that place in...Purgos, was it? It seemed to have more of her mentor's coding and memories than they had previously thought, and despite being a medic, she hadn't a clue how to block that from _her _disk.

But one thing was certain. Her coding didn't recognize this program, so either Tron had changed drastically since...he 'died', or this was another program. And she was leaning more towards the second option.

"Who are you?" she asked, not sure how to approach meeting a potential ally...she was more accustomed to learning how to sort out potential enemies.

She could practically feel the smirk coming off of him in waves, and had to bite back a surprised yelp as he twisted them around again, "You said it yourself."

Somehow he managed to twist her activated disk out of her hand and lodge it halfway through the wall on the other side of the data room, docking his own disk and twisting her arms around behind her, cuffing her in lighting quick moves.

"I'm Tron."

Enraged at his small victory over her, she lurched forward, slamming her head into his and sending sparks through her vision, and feeling painfully satisfied at his own groan, twisting onto her feet and using a powerful spinning kick to try and throw him on the ground again, which he swerved and used to his advantage, grabbing her around her waist, pale hand roughly tracing over the belt-like circuits there as he pulled her back against his chest, effectively immobilizing her.

"No, you're not."

He wrapped his arms even tighter around her, making it hard to breathe as he avoided her bashing head, "Stop. We're obviously on the same side here-"

"Oh, certainly. You must put light-cuffs on all of your allies then. Get your kicks off of this?" she spat back, jumping up, and using the downward momentum to send them both sprawling on the floor, and he grunted, refusing to let go.

"Of course not!" he protested, receiving a kick on the shin from her before wrapping a long, blindingly white leg around her matching leg, locking the bend of his foot around the back of her ankle, as she slammed her head backwards again, slamming his helmet hard enough that a soft crack could be heard, Ow! Yori, _stop!"_

She froze, brown eyes open wide, but not because he had ordered her to stop.

For a moment they simply lay on the floor, tangled and panting from the awkward fight as they both weighed their next words.

"So," he muttered.

"So," she answered.

He shifted behind her, pressed against her empty dock, "...You're not Yori."

"And you're not Tron," she squirmed, debating whether or not to take advantage of her hands..._delicate _position and inflict some damage to get him to release her.

His iron grip loosened slightly, and she stilled, twisting her masked face to try and catch a glimpse of the program's mask, "So, how about we call it even, get rid of the light-cuffs and debrief each other?"

He paused, shifting behind her again, and she was newly aware of her hands position, knowing her game-plan if he were to refuse, "Promise you won't try to kill me again?"

"I don't have my disk," she answered petulantly.

"Doesn't mean you can't derezz me anyway," she smirked, glad he wasn't underestimating her.

"True. Promise you won't _assault _me again?" Paige wiggled her fingers, wickedly satisfied by the startled yelp the other program gave as his hips jolted away...but not far enough, since he was still tightly wrapped around her.

"I wasn't-! Hmph," he sounded positively insulted through the vocal distortion, debating his options (she had just insulted his honor, after all) before begrudgingly agreeing, "Deal."

"Deal."

They shuffled around, having to twist in odd ways to get untangled before they were able to climb to their feet, Tron's imposter carefully removing her light-cuffs. Rubbing her wrists, she sent a glance at his disk in his hand, then at her disk, lodged into the wall. In response, he sighed, throwing his disk without glancing at his target, lodging it just above her white disk, crossing his arms.

"There. Now we're on even ground."

She didn't answer, turning back to him, eying him up and down, scrutinizing his structure, his height, the blue-white wound on his shoulder, impressed at his ability to fight in spite of the pain that must have given him.

"Where are you from?"

"Argon...Haven't you heard...?" he hesitated, and she knew he must not know.

"Maybe you're popular there, but Clu's system keeps news about renegades like me- like you and me from escaping too far from the cities they originated from. It helps smother inspiration any one revolution can spread."

His head titled slightly, as if he was contemplating her words, "That makes sense...It also somewhat defeats the purpose of _this,_" he gestured to their white suits, and she shrugged.

"If programs take up our example and rise against the oppression that Clu has subjected us to, then it doesn't matter if other cities know; _my_ city is on it's way to freedom," she asserted, and despite the other program's stillness, she could practically see his mind rolling as he checked himself, revising his conscious thoughts and reconciling with what he already knew. After a moment he nodded in agreement.

"...Do you work alone?" she asked, taking on the role of interrogator as she slowly started to walk around him, taking in the pattern of his circuits with curiosity.

He tensed, turning slightly to keep her in his sight, "No."

A spark of hope flew within her chest; perhaps if enough programs were aligned with him, they could work together to free both their cities. Careful planning would enable them to attack the base of operations and send the Occupation scrambling as they turned the sophisticated, deadly weapons against the original owners, and the network she was connected to would have Gallium's base of operations crumbling at the seams.

"You?"

"No," like him, she didn't divulge much, protecting her allies from a potential threat. She was still worried about a set up, and wasn't about to destroy the tenuous rebellion building here by jumping too eagerly at this...enigma in white.

He seemed to sense her reluctance and frowned, knowing that they weren't going to be getting anywhere if they didn't establish a sense of trust. Thinking back to his original meeting of Tron, he sighed, wondering if he could take the same risk with this rebel as Tron had with him. Taking in her defensive stance, he frowned.

No. Not yet. He had to learn if she was trustworthy. Tron had seen his life chronicled on his disk (although Beck could hardly approve of the violently intrusive method, he had to admit it was effective) proving his worth to the security program.

"Okay," he straightened up, causing the white female program to snap to attention, her helmet somewhat reminding him of Tron's helmet in it's shape and size, "How about a temporary alliance?"

He held out his hand and he could practically hear the female program raise an eyebrow at him and his offer. She seemed reluctant for a moment, then unceremoniously threw her hand into his and gripped it tight enough to leave marks, giving it one firm shake.

"For the good of the uprising..._s,_" she said, tilting her head, making the straightforward statement seem like a question for all her certainty.

"For the good of the uprising," he grinned under his mask.

…...

_Several cycles ago..._

_Small flashes of pain flowered out from the back of her neck, slowly prodding the unconscious program back into reality. She groaned, shifting in her uncomfortable position, some part of her wondering how she had twisted so drastically so as to end up with her knees in her face. She didn't move that much in her sleep._

_Suddenly, her eyes flew open as the last of her painful rest dissipated, the memory of Quorra's deft hands sending her sprawling against the wall jolting her into awareness, as she lurched unsteadily to her feet, her head roughly crashing against some surface...she groaned and looked up, surprised to see a storage shelf hovering over her, glancing around to find herself crammed into a storage closet._

_Anger burst across her senses and she punched the shelf, angry at herself for trusting the lying, bewitching ISOs. They had knocked her out even after she had promised not to call Clu's forces down on their sorry glitched heads, and shoved her in a closet to boot. Traitors._

_Scrambling out from under the shelf, she grumbled to herself, pushing open the door, which whined as if something had gotten caught under it's gears again. Glancing down, she was surprised by a smear of green spread across the floor, her medical coding recognizing it for what it was immediately._

_With a scream, she jumped backwards, shocked at the derezzed cubes and energy coating the floor in front of the closet. Obviously, being a medic, she had seen programs derezzed before, but...the green color left the identity of the program unmistakably that of one of her coworkers. Looking up, she felt her energy drain from her body._

_The walls were coated with the dead remnants of more and more medics, the grotesque green life-blood smeared over the walls and floors as the lights overhead flickered, highlighting the death that filled the air._

_Trembling, she felt her knees grow weak, mind reeling. Her breath hitched as she tried to calm down and focus, tried to tell herself that this was only a dream...But the sudden rip of pain that tore through her reasserted the reality of the situation, the reality of the dead programs covering the walls, the reality of her loss._

_A trembling mess, she stood, dazed, but quiet, and slowly picked her way around the derezzed cubes, making her way through the entire medical center only to find more of the same. Derezzed programs, energy-blood seeping over the counters and onto the floor, all of their tools and healing implements torn from the shelves and stolen._

"_Who...?" a broken whimper make its way out of her lips, and she collapsed in a chair at the reception desk, careful to avoid the green energy that coated the counter and the files of medical reports sat there; staring out the door, sealed shut by a military firewall, and the answer floated into her head._

_The ISOs. _

_There simply wasn't any other explanation, was there? She allowed a single, hot tear to slip down her cheek before storming to her feet and opening the doors, greeted by the hum of the brilliant red, burning firewall. Glancing around, she spotted a group of soldiers standing guard, their orange and red circuits standing out against the white city background. Reaching behind her and grabbing the chair, she threw it against the firewall with all her strength, letting a cry of exertion and pain rip out of her throat. The firewall crackled and hissed loudly, drawing the attention of the soldiers, who drew their disks as they walked up to the firewall._

"_What the-"_

"_Let me out," she gritted out through clenched teeth, fighting the pain that she felt at so much loss of life. It was only natural, she was a medic. _

_First, do no harm, was engrained into her very sense of being, and to see such harm inflicted on innocent programs..._

_The tallest of the soldiers snorted, turning towards the other two._

"_I thought you two made a thorough sweep of this building!"_

"_We did!"_

"_Then why is one of them still alive?"_

_The words sent her mind reeling and she tried to interpret their words favorably. They were here to help destroy the ISOs after all._

_The soldier turned back to her, shaking his head as he pulled out a strangely shaped device and placed it against the firewall. The firewall flickered, then opened up a rectangular doorway, just enough for one program to get out. Paige shuddered, relieved to be able to get away from the death filled building, and eagerly attempted to step through, only to be pushed back as one of the soldiers shoved through._

"_Hey," she tensed, glancing down at his drawn disk, "What's going on?"_

_He merely sighed, shaking his head, "If you don't run, this would be a lot less painful for you."_

_Her energy began to spike through her body as she took a step back, "What?"_

"_I'm sorry," he said, before lunging towards her. With a gasp, she automatically grabbed his arm, sending him flying with the move that Quorra had taught her. _

"_What are you doing?!"_

"_Protocol," answered one of the other soldiers, sending his knocked out buddy a disgruntled look, before leaping at her. A burst of rage filled her and she screamed as she sent him flying, punching his jaw for good measure._

_Protocol?_

_She wasn't given time to think about it as the last soldier, this one a bit more adept than his partners, swung his light staff at her, barely missing her as she swerved, grabbing the harmless middle-part and yanking the soldier forward, slamming his head onto her knee before using both fists to forcefully slam the soldier's disk port, causing the delicate circuits on his skin underneath to flaring in intense pain and effectively knock him out._

_Had someone asked her a couple work-cycles ago if, thrust into a situation like this, she would be able to cope, she would have immediately said no. The loss of her friends, her family really, being turned into a program that soldiers had to de-rezz because of the ISOs...the situation would have seemed too awful._

_And yet, as she stared down at the unconscious soldiers at her feet, she felt strangely calm and composed. Like when the army had brought in that general, threatening to destroy their disks if the shrapnel filled female program was not fixed. Both Dex and Rox had blanched in horror at the sight of the program-shaped bunch of orange cubes barely held together by an emergency plasma tank, no face, no skin, nor hands nor feet, the disk almost obliterated as well, but she had felt detached, slipping into some distant place in her mind as her programming worked diligently on the code in the disk, cool and aloof, not seeing the blob of shimmering pixels as a program, but a perplexing puzzle to reconfigure._

_In the end, the general had walked away alive thanks to her alone, stiff and in pain as the delicate coding solidified and relearned how to efficiently carry energy from her core to her limbs, but alive._

_Calm. Detached. Unfazed._

_Taking the light-staff from the soldier, and collapsing it to baton size, clipping it onto the side of her leg, she paused before leaving. Reaching down and pulling off the soldier's disk, she quickly accessed his most recent memories, eyes widening in hope at the sight of a tall, broad male program, General Tesler, older than herself and the soldiers at her feet, talking to her friends. Rox and Dex had turned in the ISOs! Maybe that meant that they were alive still!_

_Only to drop the disk in a flash of horror when the general ordered the death of all the programs that had had contact with the ISOs._

_Dazed, she watched as the program who owned the disk she had dropped at her feet derezzed her friends, watched as her friends green cubes clattered onto the floor under the soldier's hands, their screams for mercy ignored._

_Protocol._

_How could Clu's army do this? What could they possibly believe they were gaining in the deaths of innocent – no, in the deaths of their allies? She realized that had it not been for Quorra and Aida hiding her, she would have died too. The idea was so alien and strange (ISOs were more compassionate than Clu's Army? They were supposed to be on the _programs_' side, protecting them from ISOs and viruses and imperfections!) that it nearly broke the strange calm she felt._

_Shock, she realized. This was shock._

_Turning on her heel, turning away from the massacre playing out at her feet from the program's disk, she ran out onto Gallium's streets, energy thrumming wildly through her code as she bumped into programs, crashing into a post in her flight, not really caring that she was making a scene. After getting stared at and shouted at more times than her mind could register, she finally turned into an alley and slide down to the floor, staring at her hands as they finally started to tremble, her black and green suit contrasting against the smooth, seamless white of her city._

_Her calm shattered, letting in the grief as she collapsed on the white floor, curling up and fighting the tears that slowly streamed out of her clenched eyes, her sleep cycle taking over, her energy depleted in the adrenaline-like rush she had had mere micros ago._

_She had never welcomed oblivion so eagerly._

* * *

**So, once again, one of those things that were thrown together on the fly. (Which appereaantly is how I work best, since my most detailed things come from things I throw together without thinking it through for more than a day) SO, goodbye, read readers, I mean...dear readers(THAT WAS AN HONEST MISTAKE I THOUGHT TOO FUNNY TO LEAVE OUT. XD) I'll see you next update, I love you all. *throws self into bed***


	3. Chapter 3

**You know, I was kinda disappointed, no one seemed to get the joke in the first chapter that I spent hours figuring out. :/ "You ****_occupied _****my bed."? Now you get it? Yeah? Okay, good. Someone had to, or else I'd have gone insane. XD Anyway, this chapter belongs to the FIRST AU, not the Second one, just to clarify. This comes before that chapter, when the two were in the beginnings of their relationship, and, uh, I'm not saying anymore because my exhaustion has me mentally impaired, see, and I'll spoil it for you. :P Just read on, dear readers. ^^ **

* * *

Storming. That's what they were doing, because the tense, stiff, loud steps they took, clashing against the smooth, metallic sidewalk as they made their way back to his dorm (Paige had to drop him off this time because they were mere moments away from curfew) were much too angry and unforgiving to be 'walking'. Their normal playful bickering about opposing political views had quickly escalated to a full-fledged fight, that though quiet and subdued, was filled with cutting, subtle bitter comments, the both of them rippling under the surface with tension and the potential for an explosive climax.

The fight was due to the frustrating stalemate they had reached earlier that work-cycle, the Renegade escaping after destroying only half of the Occupation's valuable new stock of gleaming new weapons, shimmering with deadly potential. Of course, Tron's reprimand had been a bit harsher than the usual lecture about a lesson to be learned from the failure, since by now, Beck should have _known _better. And naturally, Tron blamed it all on his illicit relationship with Paige.

Which, from an outside perspective, most would agree. _Beck _agreed. Which was why his words had more bite, more venom, cut deeper today. After lashing out at his mentor, he had come and internally stewed as Paige sat next to him, cutting the Renegade to pieces with her words. No matter what he did, he was always the bad guy, despite the fact that aforementioned weapons were going to be able to cause massive, almost virus-like destruction wherever they were used. Beck had considered calling off their date beforehand, but he had had an idealistic hope that maybe seeing Paige would help his mood a little, and if he had been reading her expressions right, she had initially seemed just as relieved to see him as he was to see her...

Only to have their evening thrown apart by the bitterness on both parties sides, capped by an ultimatum from Tron that was currently preying on Beck's mind.

He was torn, thrown apart by what he wanted and by what he was supposed to do. Had he been a normal program, he would have immediately chosen his purpose, his calling, the thing he was made for, above all.

But he wasn't normal.

He was _supposed_ to be the next TRON, an enormous responsibility that he wasn't programed for, a responsibility he shouldn't and didn't take lightly; but his programming, his _purpose_ was to be a mechanic. He was _programed_ to fix, to repair. Not to protect, to defend. He was programmed to sweep in after the damage was done and make it alright again, not to _keep_ people from damaging and yet there he was, trying to take on a virtual shield and protect _everyone_. Defend everyone. Perhaps it wasn't _too_ strange to think he might also take on a relationship that conflicted wildly with both his programming and his calling.

She was the exact opposite of what he would have thought he would want in a partner in almost every way. She was strong, she was defensive, she brushed him off as much as possible. She reached out to him, then shut him out, leaving him frustrated and upset and too overwhelmed by too many different things pulling on his conscious mind at once. The Garage needed him to be there to work, Mara wanted her friend back, Zed indirectly hated him for various reasons, Tron was cracking down harder on him, pushing, testing, pulling on him, making sure he would never accidentally slip, never make a mistake, never say something out of turn, never betray what they were doing. Beck kept his secret from Zed and Mara to protect _them,_ but he kept it from Paige to protect himself and Tron.

And yet despite all that, it hurt unbearably to think of letting her go. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but around Paige, at least when politics weren't the topic of discussion, he could relax. He could let go and be himself, which Zed and Mara couldn't understand anymore. Beck had changed from the program they and Bodhi had known to a program willing to die for his cause, and Paige could understand, she could accept this part of him. She had seen it in action on the train to Bismuth, and he didn't have to hide that from her, nor the part of him that wanted to take on that shield(he just had to be careful how much of that he allowed her to focus on, lest she start to connect the dots). He trusted her more than anyone else, perhaps because they shared many of the same goals, the same let downs and down in their core...had the same purpose.

She, from what she had told him, was originally a medic. Made to help, to fix, to heal. Love, or a similar emotion, flowed naturally from their coding into the ones around them, and it wasn't hard to believe that, if Paige had seen enough suffering, she would have taken up the shield and sword as well, going into the Army to protect, to defend the innocent from harm; even if she had turned a blind eye to the worst of Clu's evils, she truly, honestly believed that what she was doing was going to bring peace. To bring freedom.

Which was all that he wanted, but unlike her, he could see how dark and twisted and restricting the Occupation was. It bound a program's hands to their sides and their feet to the ground, operating only on basic programming while their companions died right and left for meaningless 'crimes', and then told them to ignore it as the programs in either the army or the gangs tightened iron grips on freedom and resources. The fact that Paige couldn't see that made him seriously consider giving in to Tron's ultimatum.

Meanwhile, Paige was hurt, and angry. After being thoroughly grilled back and forth by General Tesler, which was shameful and hurt more than she had realized it would, she had had to stand and file her report with Pavel standing at her shoulder, compiling his own biased report while making snide, subtle comments about her incompetence and the fact that her mingling with the 'riff-raff', the common programs, was affecting her ability to serve, hitting sensitive points in her shielding, before finally trying to turn to her only source of guilty comfort, and find that he _also_ was being subtly bitter and basically _accusing _her and everything she stood for, for all that was wrong on the Grid. Well, enough!

She didn't stand around, gritting her teeth and tolerating that insufferable virus spawn called Pavel during her entire work-cycle, failing to satisfy Tesler's demands and expectations to come to Beck, who was supposed to be removed from it all (he had _**promised**_) and be treated like waste energy to be burnt away. She deserved more than that, she need-she was _programed_ for more than that. She wasn't going to sit around and take Beck's biting comments in stride, she was a soldier, a commander for Grid's sake! She was going to fight back, and if his voice went higher by any amount, she was going to _shout_ back.

But unfortunately for her slightly less confrontational side, Beck kept his voice even, controlled. Flynn, why did she have to end up with a program that knew how to handle her? He _knew _somehow, despite the fact that they hadn't fought before, despite that she was a soldier, he knew that she didn't _like_ to be the one to step anything up a level; she wanted to let things go sometimes, but in a fight, in her job, she had to become ruthless and cruel, to the point of not feeling sorrow or guilt or insecurity, and now, with him, she was reverting back to her personality from before the ISOs. Confident, but a little timid, a little insecure, willing to let another lead.

A fury exploded within her when she realized this, that she was waiting for _him _to take initiative and to be the one to break the tension and scream at her. That _would not do. _What was wrong with her, reverting to the submissive ways from before? She was Commander Paige, and she would not let herself be lead by anyone but her commanding officer.

And the program walking beside her back to his dorm, with his tension filled square jaw, furrowed eyebrows and barred, unreachable brown eyes, was _not_ her commanding officer. A part of her wondered where the gentle, slightly awkward and yet confident program she had met had gone to; the one the romantic part of Paige simply wanted to find a way to get back.

Angry Paige, insulted Paige and soldier Paige locked romantic Paige on a separate circuit than the rest of them, much to her disappointment.

Gritting her teeth as he made yet another bitter comment about Clu as the elevator closed around them, the Garage deserted by it's occupants as they settled in for a sleep-cycle above their workplace, she finally burst apart.

"Who do you think you _are?!_ Who are _YOU_ to say that the_ ONLY_ program doing anything to _protect_ and _lead _us is EVIL?!" Beck jumped, surprise flickering across his expression as they stood, facing each other, anger and bitterness and hurt crackling in the air around them as her circuits flared, lighting her face from below, "Are you saying that _I _am evil?! _Clu_ has saved us from self-destruction, he's saved us from the ISOs, he has-"

"Don't tell me you buy into _that _lie as well!" he spat back, abandoning all attempts at subtly and motioning for her to quiet down as the elevator doors slid open to his floor, and she complied, but only because she didn't want the whole Grid to know she had been fighting with him...Much less that wide eyed, touchy-feely blue haired friend of his.

Mara was alright on her own, but Paige felt an almost violent jealousy whenever Beck and Mara were together, sharing a dear, gentle relationship filled with history and old stories and tender nuances. She knew it was illogical, since Mara had, in a strange way, both threatened her and given Paige and Beck her blessing, seeming to be okay with her, and that if she was to be jealous, she could be just as jealous about Beck's relationship with his other friend...Zip? No, Led? No, Zed, yes. But that program was obviously vying for Mara's attention, and hardly payed Beck any more attention than the normal amount for a friendship forged over mutual acquaintances.

She stormed down the hallway, cursing that her heels were so loud, knowing that Beck was probably worried that she'd be waking up all his co-workers and feeling enraged that he'd be caring about them and not her...Why couldn't he _see_? And now what? Was he _defending_ the _ISOs_?

As_ that_ dawned on her, she barely realized she had made it to his room, and spun around furiously, not caring if the door had slid shut yet, any care about blue-eyed Mara hearing chucked out the window as if it had burned her, blinded by the overwhelming, white hot anger that seared through her heart, her mind, that made her want to punch in Beck's face till cubes flew or slash the one of the beds in the room in half with her disk and then proceed to destroy everything he held dear, "_THEY KILLED EVERYONE I KNEW! _Don't you _DARE_ defend them!"

The words flew out of her mouth, burning in their wake, and then the anger suddenly dissipated, replaced by sorrow that ripped through her entire being, electric and destructive, leaving her bare and vulnerable before him, despite every wall, despite every effort. He had frozen still, face blank, emotionless as he stared at her, impassive and...so, so stupid. Couldn't he see...? She didn't know what she wanted him to see.

_Just understand me, _she ordered him inwardly. She trusted him, she had opened herself to him despite how hard and painful it was to tear down the walls or how secretly terrified she was of him betraying her, and there he stood as she blurted out the most painful thing in her heart, staring at her like a newly rezzed program, like she was something strange and something to be studied and learned.

"I hate you," she seethed, as tears began to brim the edges of her eyes, hating the unshed tears and hating the fact that she was so emotionally compromised by this mechanic, anger growing in her chest once more, "I hate you for defending those _monsters_, I hate you for being such an idiot, I hate you for making me so, so..."

She stopped, stiffening in place, closing her eyes tightly and fighting the emotions back into their proper place, failing as Beck watched her fall apart, astonished and shocked and scared. Afraid of what it meant. Afraid of how very deep they had both jumped into this thing, this catastrophic, fatally doomed thing that they shared.

"_They killed everyone...-"_

The ISOs. Staring at her, he tried to make sense of this. Tron defended the ISOs, so it would make sense that the ISOs were okay (Tron had never divulged much about the ISOs, and he felt uncomfortable pushing him, so Beck didn't know much more than what the archives held on them). It made sense that Clu was lying about that too, especially since the hatred of ISOs was the main force behind his rise to control.

Stunned, he listened to her unravel, watched her break as she began to seethe again how much she hated him, and felt everything else fade. He watched as the pieces flew away from her, shattering and exploding and spinning wildly as tears _tried_ to fight their way out of her clenched eyes, and fear clawed it's way out of its comfortable confines in her chest.

Guilt crashed into him as he realized that he hated this. He hated seeing her fall apart, hated having been the one to tear her apart and he realized that she was much more broken than he had realized. She was much more hurt, much more scarred. It shattered something inside of him, to see how he had once again misjudged her, and every part of him that had been bitter and angry and wondering why he was still doing this with her softened and blew away, because he could see who it was he was fighting for.

He could see the program underneath all of the soldier training and glares and biting comments, the program that was broken and alone and strong and capable, yearning for things that neither of them knew. The program he had only caught glimpses of, and yet was willing to ally her in their own secret quest for belonging in spite of all he shouldered. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, kiss her until all the pieces flew back together and all the broken parts seeped back together and became something new, something whole, something that wouldn't hurt and would make her happy again.

But Beck knew he couldn't kiss her. She didn't need romantic gestures or a lover. She needed a friend, to stand beside her, and he wanted to be that friend.

.

Beck wanted to be the one to help piece her back together, even as he realized he might not be the one she needed. The thought that he couldn't help her made him feel useless and selfish, and he pressed his open hands against his thighs, keeping his fingers from clenching shut. If he couldn't be her friend, if he couldn't be the one to help make her feel safe or to step in after the damage was done and fix it, make it alright again somehow, then maybe...

He wanted his disk, his recoder, something that would help him help her, something that would make it good again.

His hands clenched despite his efforts and he felt an instinctual urge to run. This wasn't something he could fix, he knew that; Tron's training had established protocols for situations he couldn't fix, but this wasn't a situation that he could avoid by turning tail and running like the System Administrator himself was after him.

Fixing light-cycles and military tanks and light-jets was so much easier than _this_, this emotional mess that they both were. There was only so much he knew about her, only so much he knew about anything. This was new to him, all these feelings he had, the way he had to consider Paige over himself now and yet couldn't afford to, the way he wanted to keep her close, the way he wanted to be able to tell her everything and burning up inside because he couldn't.

This was pain and joy and fire and water, higher and brighter than any energy drink and darker and deeper than the Void below the Grid. For a brief moment he wondered if the Users ever felt this way, or if they had it all worked out. Some method, some plan...

_He_ needed a plan, some method of making up for his blunder...Although he knew he could argue that he didn't know, he didn't know what had happened to her, didn't know about the ISOs, didn't know he would hurt her with those words, he had to admit, it had been his own loss of self-control that had set in motion the path to here, his own scathing comments that had paved the road to this moment.

_(AN: Somewhere, somehow, Kevin Flynn is proud of this Zen-like revelation. ^.^)_

"Paige..." he reached out, trying to bridge the cold distance between them, hands brushing against her shoulders, only to receive an accidental backhand to the face as she threw his hands off with a snarl. With a quiet gasp, she froze, and he pushed on, used to getting hit in the face by her (though that was as the _Renegade, _and he normally had a _helmet _on...) and choose to ignore it this once.

She hated him. She hated the fact that she hated hurting him, and that the sight of her hand smacking the side of his face froze her in guilt. No one was supposed to be able to affect her that way. No one should affect her that way.

His expression had changed, morphing into one of guilt and confusion, and she thought it looked stupid. It just made her want to bring her hand against him again, albeit on purpose this time around, and smack it off of his stupid, sensitive face. She tried to draw on that anger, to build her walls, to close him off and clear the film of tears threatening to slip past her eyelids, but it was nearly impossible when he was trying to pull her towards him, trying to envelop her in his arms. She didn't want that.

And yet, she didn't fight him as strongly as she should have. Soon, he had wrapped his arms around her tense, impassive shoulders, a gentle and loose gesture. Frozen against him, seething in anger as she felt her space violated and her emotions strewn across the floor, she found herself unable to respond, unable to pull away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, gentle and warm and compassionate as he gently rubbed his thumbs over her shoulders, ignoring how stiff and frigid she was in his grasp. Paige was quiet, eyes scrunched shut and face twisted into a trembling grimace. She was a mess. She was a disaster. Tesler would be disgusted with her. She didn't want to open her eyes again, and see the pity in Beck's eyes. She didn't want his pity, or his sympathy, she didn't need it. She didn't want it.

She suddenly realized that she was swaying slightly, rocking them back and forth in tiny movements, tied together by his arms, subconsciously relenting to him. Stopping the movement and standing as still as only a soldier could, she still refused to open her eyes, pulling away just the slightest from his hold. He pulled away completely in response, taking a step back, one hand releasing her shoulder to reach up and brush away a stray strand of hair.

She wanted to punch him, despite knowing she would never actually do that. She had never given him the right, the permission to touch her in that way. She barely allowed such things when she was in a good mood, and that he thought he could touch her like that_ now_ enraged her. And she was even more enraged that she was afraid to open her mouth to speak, afraid she would burst into tears, so fragile her control was.

"Paige," if he said he was sorry again, so help her Flynn, she was going to punch him. She didn't need his pity, "I should have been more considerate. You needed a friend today, and I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry."

Her eyes flew open, because she hadn't been expecting that. _I'm sorry, _**I**_ was wrong_, was about as far away from _I'm sorry they're all dead and you're all alone and are now throwing a pity party in front of me_ as one could get. His solemn expression, laced with some other indescribable emotion, directed at her, and not the words she had blurted out, shook her and she was left confused and scared, some of her anger melting from the confusion and seeping into the floor under their feet.

"What?" dumbfound, she stared at him.

Since joining Tesler's ranks, she had mourned. Quietly, alone, and the originally all-consuming sorrow had dulled to soft pang deep within her code. She could speak of the event calmly, rationally, with only hints of anger towards the ISOs in her voice and expression, and almost every high-ranking soldier she had come across would commend her ability to surpass hardships and flourish despite them, despite not even being programed for such things. She had gotten over the pain, and lived past it. It surprised and angered her that she was breaking like this, in front of the mechanic no less.

Granted, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificing mechanic that had emotionally compromised her despite her best efforts. He was not afraid of death, or of taking risks, or even of her, he had proved. Maybe part of her had been drawn to a program that despite not fearing her, wholeheartedly respected her; in all her time as a soldier not one other program had ever balanced their lack of fear for her with a deep, personal respect; walking confidently before her without acting as if she was a ticking-time bomb or about to derezz him on sight, while talking and _actively _disagreeing with her without making her feel like dirt and stupidity embodied.

He was the only program she knew that didn't make her feel like a subordinate or a superior. They were _equals,_, and _that _was why she had slowly begun to concede him the privilege to lead in certain areas despite her fear trying to belittle him (_mechanic, mechanic_) to combat her constantly rising opinion of him.

And _that _was why she was enraged at his sudden turn of face, going from that even ground she had gradually gotten accustomed to to verbally lashing out with spikes and daggers at everything she stood for, everything she was, because it was a betrayal of all that they had slowly worked to bridge together. It was what she had been afraid of, afraid of being hurt, afraid of more pain.

Beck's expression flickered again, and his hand slipped off her shoulder, awkwardly falling back into place at his side, before jerkily making it's way to the back of his neck, his thumb worrying at a stress spot as his eyes left her face, the awkward young program sinking back into his frame, and a tiny part of her ached for the contact again, another part of her relieved to be released. She felt her mask slipping back on, her tears fought back into place, her heart hidden and guarded again.

"I just...I'm sorry," he saw the mask slip back into place in her expression, and it hurt, "I promised you something and I broke that promise."

She frowned, still not trusting her voice. She remembered having made him promise he would be removed from her work; she had been afraid of seeing judgment in his eyes, afraid of the bitterness she had encountered today...

His body moved towards her the slightest bit, before shifting backwards, a new determination on his face, "I...Paige, I think that we...I...sort of moved too fast. I was too focused on being _with_ you that I forgot...I forgot to be your friend."

Paige's jaw clenched, her face twisting from the blank mask into one of anger, shoving past him as she shook her head, "...You know, you're right. We did move too fast. We shouldn't have been moving at all."

He shifted, looking over his shoulder as she opened the door, "Paige..."

She paused, looking over her shoulder with anger in her expression.

"If you ever need a friend, my door is always open."

"I don't need a friend, mechanic," she answered, slipping through the door and out of his dorm, leaving him to sigh and stare out his window at the sleeping city of Argon, an emotional exhaustion settling into his core as he collapsed onto his bed and thought of Tron.

As sleep settled over him like a heavy blanket, he smiled humorlessly, knowing that about a thousand apologies were in order; the honor Tron was settling on his shoulders was not one to take lightly, and he knew that.

He knew that.

…...

The minute he walked into Tron's hideout the next day, he was greeted by a deactivated blur of white thrown at his face, only barely managing to catch it and avoid a broken nose. Looking down at the white disk half in his hands, remembering it ripped off of his disk by Tron's angry hands and being told not to come back unless he was ready for the disk and the suit, he glanced up at the security program working at the data screen, sorting through high priority alerts and minor alerts, as if Beck hadn't even entered the room.

The mechanic sighed, his broad shoulders slumping as he made his way up the stairs, the disk held in front of him like a damaged part, "Tron. Listen, about yesterday-"

Tron shook his head, bending down gracefully and shoving a box of assorted parts into Beck's arms, gesturing to the work station behind him, "Sit."

Beck blinked, but conceded, surprised at both the lack of a lecture and the strange project given to him. Normally Tron immediately put him into the training room or brought up studies in strategy for them to pour over together or lectured him on this or that.

Tron pressed a few more blinking dots on the screen, then closed the window, leaving only the distant view of Argon before them, sitting down across from Beck and pulling out a handful of objects from the box, setting them on the workstation between them, "It's nice to see you too, Beck."

Beck snorted, a smile finding it's way to his face, sarcasm lacing his voice as Tron's hands quickly danced around the parts, "Like you normally bother with pleasantries. Hello, Tron, good cycle so far?"

"Hmm, I could do without the sarcasm and silence, but otherwise it's been fine," Tron raised an eyebrow, his lips pulled into the closest they would ever get to a smile for a while. Cutting to the chase, he held up a half finished device, "We're making suffusion bombs today."

"Oh," Beck pulled a small case off his leg, half the size of of a baton, and unrolled it, revealing a set of small tools used to fix the smaller components of a light-cycle or light-jet, and dumping out the rest of the contents of the box, setting to work at following Tron's quiet instructions, working like this for almost an hour.

"Tron?"

"Make sure you don't cross the white circuit over the red dial, you could kill us both and reveal our location."

"Tron."

"Hmm?"

Beck sighed, pinning the white circuit away from the red dial and looking up from their work, "I, uh, just wanted to apologize for snapping at you."

"You call that snapping?" Tron looked up, amused, "Makes me wonder what full fledged blow out looks like."

Beck scoffed, crossing his arm, "Hey, I'm trying here. I'm just saying...you're probably right about everything."

"But you're still going to see her."

"...Would it make you happy to know we actually had our first fight last night? I'm not even sure if I'll see her again," a raised eyebrow made him throw his head back, "As Beck, Tron, you know what I mean."

"What did you do?" Tron tapped Beck's hand with his tool to indicate that they were still working on the suffusion bombs.

"Why do you assume _I_ did something wrong? I'm not that awful," he quickly began to mirror Tron's hands, putting yet another layer of code over the circuits.

Tron chuckled, "No, but you left here in quite the mood."

"Well...Granted, I messed up, but you practically disowned me," a tiny screw yet flying from under the sudden pressure he put on it and he muttered something before bending down and searching for it on the floor, "And I accidentally hit a raw nerve with her."

"Looking for this?" jerking back up and hitting his head on the way, Beck grimaced as Tron pulled the little screw out of his graying hair and flicked it towards him.

"She said that the ISOs killed everyone she knew."

Tron frowned, "I doubt that. One or two ISOs might have snapped after the Purge, but they had the utmost respect for life...Not unlike you, Beck."

Beck shrugged, though there was relief in that he hadn't been defending murderers, "Well, I don't know much about it."

The Security Program simply hummed, continuing his work on the bomb for a few moments, carefully watching Beck's skilled hands as they picked up on his knowledge.

"I once was young like you, Beck," the comfortable silence broke, and Beck glanced up at his mentor with curiosity, noticing Tron's eyes wandering up to his hair for a brief moment, "Had crazy _hair_ like yours too once."

"Hey!"

Tron waved the young program's offended expression away, though his eyes sparkled with mischief that had once been much more evident in his personality, "My point, Beck, is that I know what it's like to have eyes on a pretty young program. Much more on a strong, confident one that you feel can shoulder the same burden you hold if you ever need her to."

He reached out, a sympathetic hand clasping over his apprentice's shoulder, and Beck's warm brown eyes met his with a question.

"I know, Beck, I know. I probably would have reacted just as you did to having her barred from me by Al- by anyone else, but back then I had a purpose and that would have been my primary objective. It's harder for you, because this isn't your original purpose. If you were still a mechanic, you would have no problem going after this Commander – if she noticed you, that is."

"Hey!"

"Face it, kid, the only reason she noticed you was because of my training," a spark of that mischief flitted across the senior program's face briefly as Beck mock pouted before his expression settled into something more serious, "Beck. You're playing with fire, as the saying goes. My girl was on my side from the start, yours wants to kill you. I know what it is that you're looking for in her, but you better make damn sure that she is the one you want it with, and if she is...Flynn help us all."

…...

Paige hid a smirk as General Tesler stared at the burning rubble of what used to be their shining armory, a tremor of anger crawling up his spine, as he briskly turned to Pavel, who straightened into a perfect military stance, fear sparking across his face.

"You incompetent _idiot! _You said you could handle the Renegade if he was dumb enough to come back in here, now _look at our CORRUPTION BLASTERS! _Paige at least saved half of them, you null unit!"

Well, at least it wasn't her fault this time. Her smirk fell as her temporary amusement grated on and on, her expression falling as the deep sadness that had filled her work-cycle settled over her once more, refusing to let her shoulders slump from the weight and ruin her military stance. Her sleep had been sporadic and restless, and no matter how tightly she pulled the mask on her face, she ached with grief that had been pulled out of it's comfortable place deep in her memory, compounded by the bad feeling in her mouth left by the way she had turned down Beck's apology.

She didn't get those every day, much less from any male, and to have a guy apologize to her was both boost in her self-esteem and extremely humbling; despite the fact that the program had just goaded them into their first real fight, her impression of him improved ever so slightly.

He was humble. He wasn't below apologizing and admitting he was wrong, and she would be lying if she said it didn't attract her even more to him.

But what had really been preying on her mind was what he had said.

_I forgot to be your friend._

Friend? Memories of Rox and Dex fought for acknowledgment, and she wondered why she hadn't thought of a romantic relationship in that way before. First friends, then lovers.

Friend? Hadn't that been one of the first things she had noticed on that first date, how easy it was to sink into a conversation with him, as if they were old friends just reunited after cycles and cycles of separation? She wasn't sure she could be his friend; it felt as though she had forgotten how.

"Paige!" Tesler barked her name, drawing her out of her reverie, and she snapped to attention.

"Yes General."

"I think you've earned yourself the day off," Tesler smirked, as Pavel slumped in the corner, "Go on and do...uh, whatever it is that you do on your free time. Pavel can take care of this mess on his own."

Pavel muttered something about common programs and Paige blinked in surprise. Despite knowing it was only to spite Pavel, she felt immensely grateful.

"Are you sure, General?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Thank you, General," she smirked at Pavel just to make his life a little bit more miserable and made her retreat, finding her way to her room and collapsing on her bed, letting the resurfaced grief take her under, silent tears slipping unbidden from her eyes in the silent and lonely room. So many times she had grieved this way, alone, braving through it, figuring it out.

Her eyes wandered to the shelf were her monome and the only remaining picture of her friends (her family) sat, untouched since the incident on the island. She was used to being alone, surrounded by the cold air of the military base and sniveling soldiers and prideful guards. She growled, anger surfacing again because she felt weak, because of Beck, because in the brief time they spent together he had gotten her used to warmth and humility and gentility, and that was what she craved right now.

She knew she should have cut off their relationship from the start; she was endangering herself and she was endangering him by growing weak like this.

The memory of Quorra surfaced and her anger increased triple, and a part of her wondered what it would be like to try and share this pain with him. He already knew that the ISOs had killed everyone, but...

The burden of the pain and the grief pressed against her chest, and against her better judgment, she rose to her feet, running her hand over the monome, drawing comfort and strength from the memories it held.

Would it be so bad, to have a friend?

…...

The sound of someone pounding on his door jolted Beck, as he tried to wash out the smell of smoke from his hair.

"_Beck?"_

Mara, he noted, patting his hair dry and failing since he didn't really have any water absorbent materials in his barely furnished dorm, "Just a moment!"

Settling for shaking his head (some strange, insistent memory about shaking water out of hair pressed against his conscious memory, but before he could figure it out, it was gone) he wiped his forehead and waved his hand over the door, finding Mara...and Paige right outside his door. Mara seemed both perplexed and amused, and smiled at him while taking a step back, allowing Paige to have his attention.

Surprise and relief flooded him, mixed with a twinge of apprehension as he stepped out of his door, "Hi."

"Hi," she answered, her face unreadable, her hair hiding most of her face, and for a few moments, both were silent, taking in each other's expressions. Just before the silence became awkward, Beck cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

"Do you want a friend?" he asked gently, and she felt like beaming at him, because he knew exactly how to word the question, knew exactly how to approach her and not scare her off.

She held out her hand, and he hesitated, his hand pausing just before enveloping hers, then answering him in a quiet voice, "Yes. I do."

* * *

**That whole hair comment from Tron...Uh, well, if you look up Tron on Google, eventually in the pictures you find him with this insanely spiky hairdo, which I thought looked a lot like Beck's hair, so that's where that came from. I'm not super proud of this chapter, but I like it. Sort of an amatuoour exploration into what builds up relationships(since I've never been in one, but am carefully planning for the day some poor fellow decides he likes me, since I've got like...you know, a biblical plan for it and all. Sort of.) I don't know, it's way too late, I've been up too long and my spelling is for birds, so bye everyone, before I make a complete fool of myself. *bursts out laughing* You know, I was thinking maybe, since I'm so immature like this, I could have one of the characters of the show(or the movies, depending) come on to my AN and read the "Next On" portion. Hehe, that would be fun. ^^**


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